Page 36 of Stuff My Turkey
"Fuck," he finally said abruptly, pulling me roughly back up his body. "I need to be inside you, Honey—now."
When he flipped me over and pushed himself inside my wet and ready entrance, my breath caught at the intensity in his eyes.
"Heath," I breathed as the tension coiled tighter, my body arching against his as I spiraled towards ecstasy.
"I've got you," he promised, his voice rough with emotion.
When release claimed me, it was like falling and flying at once, waves of sensation radiating outward from where we were joined. Heath followed moments later, shuddering against me as he spilled his seed deep into my core.
Afterward, we lay tangled in sheets and each other, his heartbeat slowing beneath my cheek. One of his hands traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder while the other held mine over his chest.
"So," I said, once I'd caught my breath, "do you think we've figured it out yet?"
He chuckled, the sound rumbling under my ear. "I think we're off to a promising start."
"A business arrangement with benefits?"
"More like a relationship with a solid foundation," he corrected gently. "We already know the worst about each other. I know you're a terrible cook who can't tell east from west, and you know I'm a stubborn cowboy with trust issues."
"And somehow I still like you," I marveled, propping myself up to look at him.
"Imagine that." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "The city lawyer and the small-town rancher."
"It does sound like the start of a bad joke," I admitted.
"Or the very best kind of story," he suggested, pulling me closer.
Outside, a gentle rain began to fall, tapping against the roof in a soothing rhythm. The room smelled of us—of intimacy and new beginnings. Whatever came next—returning to Austin, figuring out logistics, dealing with the complications of real life—would come tomorrow.
Tonight was for us. For the unexpected gift that had grown from the strangest of beginnings.
"Happy Thanksgiving," I whispered against his lips.
His smile, visible even in the darkness, was answer enough.
Epilogue
Heath
I stood on the porch rocker, hanging the last of the Christmas lights along the eaves. December had painted the ranch in subtle shades of winter—frost silvering the grass in early mornings, bare pecan trees standing like sentinels against pale skies. Six weeks since Thanksgiving had changed everything, and still I caught myself pausing sometimes, wondering if I'd dreamed it all.
The Vickery deal had closed two weeks ago—not just the quarter million I'd hoped for, but an additional hundred thousand earmarked specifically for the heritage breed preservation program. Earl had called it an "investment in ethical farming practices," but I knew it had more to do with the honesty Honey and I had shown that night.
Thinking of Honey made me smile. She'd kept her Austin apartment but had begun building a practice here in Bitter Root, renting a small office above the hardware store two days a week. The town had taken to her—even those who'd initially been suspicious of the “lawyer-type” had warmed up after she'dhelped old man Simmons with his property dispute and gotten Doris Jenkins' grandson out of a minor scrape with the law.
I climbed down from the ladder, admiring my handiwork. The farmhouse looked like something from a Christmas card—white lights tracing the roofline, wreaths on every window, and a massive pine tree visible through the front window, its colorful lights blinking steadily. Mom had always gone all out for Christmas, and I'd carried on the tradition even after my parents retired to South Padre.
The sound of tires on gravel announced a visitor. I turned to see Buck's truck pulling up. Another change I hadn't expected—Buck Jessup working for me.
After Thanksgiving, his farm had finally collapsed under the weight of debt he'd been hiding. Rather than watch a century-old ranch get carved up by developers, I'd made him an offer—I'd buy the land and bring him on as operations manager for both properties. Turns out, beneath all that bluster, Buck knew birds. He just didn't know business.
"Evening, boss," Buck called, pulling a cooler from his truck bed. The "boss" was still said with a hint of irony, but the real hostility had faded. "Brought by those eggs you wanted separated. The Bourbon Reds are producing better than expected."
"Thanks," I said, helping him carry the cooler to the turkey barn. "You heading to your sister's for Christmas?"
He nodded. "Driving over in the morning. Tell Honey I said Merry Christmas." He hesitated, then added gruffly, "And thanks. For everything."
I understood what he wasn't saying. Honey had been the one to set up the legal framework for our employment agreement, ensuring Buck kept his dignity while saving his family's legacy. She'd seen the potential for redemption where I'd only seen a rival.
